I don’t get a lot of feedback regarding what I have written and I don’t let that concern me.

However, my posts may be more sporadic in the next couple of months (or even longer).

As most of you, my readers, know, I am in a long-term battle with Multiple Sclerosis. Unfortunately, even though I have a mild case of Relapsing-Remitting Multiple Sclerosis (RRMS), I am still 15 plus years into the progression. I can no longer ignore the constant pins and needles on the left side of my body, the memory gaps, and the coordination issues that have been slowly becoming more pronounced as the disease progresses.

I was hospitalized last weekend after an extended “on automatic” where I wasn’t aware of having driving about 10 mi/16 km and then having a brief loss of consciousness. A battery of testing showed no signs of bleeding on the brain but also no active MS activity. However, the sheer amount of time that I was battling but not being treated has caught up with me.

To sum up the details of the weekend, I am now to walk with a cane at all times. It was “suggested” that I considering giving up my driver’s license as well.

Right now, between the physical issues and the crushing mental anguish of this happening, I’m in no place to write. Hell, I’m barely living at this point. I am going through the motions of what I have to do, but there’s no joy, no tedium, it’s just doing it.

As much as I don’t want to do it, I’m going to have to figure out what my options are related to work. I am hoping I can take a sabbatical from work, even if it’s only a couple of weeks so that I can get some intense mental help as I’m dangerously close to losing it.

We had nothing to go on except that perhaps Brady had gone to Arkansas. No word from their Uncle Larry either.

For all intents and purposes, Brady and disappeared. His phone was no longer in service and e-mails returned undeliverable. Jackson and I were nervous wrecks by this time.

Any doubts I had about my feelings for Brady were erased. I was sick with worry that was tinged some threads of anger and understanding. Today’s digital age meant that you had a pressure to be connected all the time and you couldn’t ‘get away’ like you could when I was growing up.

Brady and Jackson were out doing their chores, mainly clearing the 11″ of snow that dumped on the area. The polar vortex had broken and temperatures had warmed into the 20s.

The boys hadn’t mentioned anything with the possible relationship between Brady and I, but I could tell it was causing friction between them. I didn’t want to get involved between them but I found myself slowly falling for Brady. I couldn’t bear it if I drove them apart. Was Jackson jealous? Worried about their jobs?

“I already told them it wouldn’t affect their employment.” I muttered out loud.

Brady was a great kid. I use kid loosely. At 22 with a B.S. in Agribusiness from North Dakota State and a head for business, Brady was already working with Aaron on our supply logistics and working some of the family farm supplies into our system to help with volume and pricing.

On the romantic front, I was forcing Brady to take it slow. He’d dated some in college but I wasn’t wanting to rush into anything. My 50th birthday was rapidly approaching and that was weighing on my mind whenever I thought about a relationship with Brady.

There’s 28 years difference here…. Are you a cradle robber? Chicken hawk? –No! He made the approach to you. Let go of your fears and live life. I’d been having this argument for several weeks in my head. I’d not let Brady in on any of the battles yet. Tonight. We’re having dinner and you need to bring it up with Brady.

Brady and I were supposed to have dinner tonight but Brady had canceled this morning. I didn’t think anything of it given the storm we’d just had, the farm would need the help. Mr. Larson was in good health but he was in his mid 60s. The twins were a late surprise for the Larson family. He was starting to slow down and was relying on the twins to keep the farm running. Brady and Jackson had taken over the farm in reality. Brady was the brains of the operation managing supplies and making sure the farm was running at a profit or at least trending to breaking even. Jackson was the brawn. While in the face, they were definitely twins, in physique they were not. Brady was the stereotypical farmboy build. Plenty of muscle but a layer of fat laid over it. He could have easily played football in high school and college but instead had chosen shotput. Jackson was a couple of inches shorter but had a slender build. What his slender body hid was an intensely strong, wiry build.

During the summer, Jackson was often shirtless, in just his jeans and boots. You could see all of the muscles in his torso move and flex as he worked. With his charming smile, outgoing personality, and lean build, he had his choice of girls from around the county.

Brady, on the other hand, was quiet and more withdrawn. An imposing figure even in high school, he’s never developed the “fan club” that most student athletes seemed to have. He’d hit his growth spurt early and intensely. Between his freshman and sophomore year of high school, he’d stayed home and spent the summer working on the farm and starting to work out with Jackson in one of the barns. It was like a growth chamber as Brady had gone into the summer at 5’7” and 150 pounds and came out at 6’2” and 260 pounds. He was far less likely to take off his trademark long sleeve blue work shirt and jeans even in the hottest of weather.

Looking back now, I guess I should have suspected something. The boys why do I keep calling them boys? They are strapping young men! had been hired in early June when they had returned after graduating from NDSU. Jackson had his shirt off, taking a edger and cutting through the deep sod layer as they landscaped. Brady was following behind him with a shovel, removing the sod layer that Jackson had loosened. Brady’s shirt was plastered to him as he worked and even with his stocky build, you could see the raw power of the muscles underneath.

It had been a long time since I’d had an erotic thought about anyone. It wasn’t that I did want it but more of a state of mind that I’d never find anyone who would want me and a social anxiety about being out. Setting up the colony should have loosened up my anxiety but seemed to have made it worse. Everyone in the colony knew I was gay and no one cared. Even Jackson and Brady know from the time they were hired. Aaron made it clear that I was gay and that there were gay couples that lived here and sexuality was open.

Watching Brady work, I was shocked when I realized that for the first time in years, there was spontaneous turgidity in my shorts. I grabbed a tall glass of iced tea and went back to sit on the porch watching the boys work.

It wasn’t so much that I was watching them, they were just part of the scene in the view from my front porch. I sent a quick text to Aaron to suggest having him check on the new hires and to bring them some water. I quickly added that maybe he should suggest Brady take his shirt off.

Aaron came out of the warehouse with a 2 1/2 gallon jug of water and a couple of plastic cups. He chatted with the boys and had a brief word with Brady. I knew Aaron had told him what I’d said when Brady looked around. Making eye contact with me, he turned and slowly took off his shirt with his back to me. Brady went back to work, this time facing me, and from time to time would look up and make eye contact.

I woke up and realized that the sun was up. It didn’t matter as all I could do was think about puking. I’d not been this hung over since college. I thought about getting up to stumble to the bathroom.

I stopped, frozen in the realization that there was an arm over me from behind and someone in front of me as well. I blinked my eyes a few more times then lifted my head up as far as I could. I could make out a muscular red-furred arm across me and a red-haired farm boy in front of me.

I didn’t. Oh god, I didn’t sleep with the Larson brothers. No! No! No! They must have had too much, like I did, and I offered them my place to crash.

My mind slowly started to piece the situation and I realized that I was still dressed and the guy in front of me was as well. I twisted around enough to see a shirt on the guy behind me.

Okay, this isn’t as bad as I though it was.

I still had to take a piss but the thought of laying there between the two farm boys was too much. I was just about to lay back down when the arm that was over me pulled me back down to the bed. My head landed on the pillow and I felt warm breath on my neck, followed by the rubbing of light scruff on the base of my neck.

Fighting down the erection that threatened push hard into the guy in front of me, I was torn between the euphoria from behind and the terror that this would not end well. I had just about let my guard enough to fall back to sleep. Just as I fell myself ‘fall’ asleep, I felt the slow rhythmic grind of a sizable erection pressing into the small of my back. My eyes flew open wide but I didn’t move.

“Brady. Stop molesting Mr. Ramhart, you stupid drunk fuck.” Jackson said from in front of me.

The grinding didn’t stop, rather it got more intense. Jackson got up and walked around the bed, then unceremoniously pulled Brady of the bed. Brady hit the floor with a thud, causing me to turn over and make sure he was okay.

Jackson looked down at him with derision, “Brady, you really need to learn to control yourself. It’s different when you do that to me but not strangers!” Jackson punctuated his point by driving his foot firmly into Brady’s balls.

I watched this and couldn’t help but think, it’s a good thing he’s not wearing boots!

Brady was now fully awake and groaning from the foot in his balls. Jackson looked at me, winked and then announced he was going to make coffee.

Perfect timing! I thought as a got up and finally took the piss I’d been holding since I woke up. I took the time to take a shower and try to clear the headache. I had a couple of glasses of water and washed down a couple of aspirin.

I put on a robe, only because of the interaction with Brady this morning and started making my way to the kitchen.

Getting close to the kitchen, I could hear Brady and Jackson having a heated discussion.

“Brady, you’re gonna get us FIRED. Don’t you understand that?”

“Jackson, I didn’t mean to do it. I was sleeping.”

“I know bro, but…we don’t know about Mr. Ramhart. He’s mostly likely straight and waking up to some guy dry humping him…you’re lucky he didn’t kick us out of his house right then.”

They continued on like this for a couple of minutes before I walked in the room.

As I walked in, I asked Jackson for some privacy so I could speak with Brady. I didn’t think a redhead could get any paler, but Jackson was snow white and looked like he was going to pass out.

I tossed him the TV remote and pointed him towards the living room.

Once I was heard the TV and surround sound turn on, I told Brady to grab his coffee and have a seat at the table. I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat down across from Brady.

“Brady…” was all I could say before I was interrupted.

“Mr. Ramhart, I am so sorry. I was asleep and having a dream. I didn’t mean anything by it, I swear! It’s not like I like you like that, well, I do, but it’s just…” Brady trailed off from a rapid fire stream of conciousness to terrified silence in less than five words.

“Brady, it’s okay if you like me like that. I’m bi, mostly interested in men, but I’m bi. It sounds like you and Jackson have an interesting arrangement.” I prodded gently to see what he would say.

“We do. We have to share a bedroom, so we just decided we’d share a bigger bed instead of having two small beds in the room. Sometimes, when I’m sleeping, I wind up spooning Jax and grinding against him like I do with you. He doesn’t like it as he’s straight but he also knows that I wouldn’t actually do anything with him being brothers and all.”

I smiled, “It’s all good Brady. As for Jackson’s worry about me firing you, that won’t happen from this. In fact, we’re going to treat this whole thing like it didn’t happen. Except for one thing Brady.” I paused for dramatic effect and I could see Brady tense up.

“Does Jackson know about your feelings for me?” I asked.

“No sir.” Brady meekly whispered.

“Well, if you are going to bark up my tree and try to get somewhere, he should know. It will not affect your employment here.”

It has been quiet through the winter months. Too quiet really. I guess I should have expected that as we didn’t have the underground tunnel system yet and it has been a particularly bitter winter standards even by northern Minnesota standards.

I paused writing my diary entry and looked over at the digital thermometer by the deck door.

-41F — It was only late December and yet we were in the grips of something that the TV talking heads called a ‘Polar Vortex.’ Fuck, I’d call it the Polar Express as it just kept coming and coming.

The cold temperatures were putting our utilities under strain. The solar system was working at near peak efficiency in the bitter cold, but clear, skies. However, it was so cold that we all had our heat cranked up and running all the time which was pulling electricity for the blowers and gas for the heat all the time.

The one good/bad thing was that my office line hadn’t rang in weeks. Amazingly, in the middle of an arctic blast like this, no one was really thinking about moving to a nudist village. It did have me thinking that we could open a nudist hotel or old-school resort.

It wouldn’t be like one of the monstrosities that you found in Wisconsin Dells or at the Mall of America. No, it would be small cabins rented by the week or season with mini-golf, a pool, and a watering hole. I didn’t really want to deal with the county regarding a liquor license so I put a note ‘BYO’ next to the watering hole.

It’s only 5am. I should either crawl back into bed or start a fire and get the day going.

Twenty minutes later, the coffee maker chirped to let me know it was done. The fire was cranked up and stoked to last most of the morning. As the morning light started to build, I could see sparkles in the air. Looking out the window, there was an ice fog that had settled in during the night. The other side of the house was foggy as well but the smoke was settling down at tree top level in the intense cold.

There was a crazy part of me that looked out on the frozen wasteland on the other side of the glass door and thought, “Get a hot shower going and then run outside and make a quick nude snow angel and then run back in the house!” I quickly got a mug of coffee, started the shower, and left the cup of coffee on the vanity.

I walked back over to the big deck doors and looked out. It was now or never. I opened the door and my body immediately screamed NEVER! and with that, my crazy idea of making snow angels at -40F was over.

I decided I’d just luxuriate in the hot shower. I wandered back into the bathroom and adjusted the shower to be more like a tropical downpour with a heavy mist. I took a drink of the coffee and slipped into the shower. The bitter cold outside was now a distant memory as the hot mist and shower enveloped me. I sat down on one of the benches and lost myself in thoughts of summer rain. It wasn’t long and my hand had slipped down, slowly tugging on my rapidly stiffening cock.

I leaned back against the glass and let myself enjoy the moment. The hot water combined with the cascades of steam were making me a bit sleepy but also had me worked up at the same time.

I closed my eyes and let my mind wander where it wanted. There were a couple of farm boys about a mile and a half down the road that came up in the summer to harvest the hay on the arable land and then came back in the winter months with a tractor and kept us plowed out even in the worst of snow storms.

Jackson and Brady Larson had returned home at the end of summer with degrees in agriculture. Jackson was going to be the brains and Brady the brawn. In my mind, I didn’t care which was which. Fraternal twins, they could almost pass as identical twins.

Lanky blonds, they filled out a pair of jeans like nobody’s business. Add the boots and cowboy hats to the equation and I was a sucker. It took all of my willpower to keep doing what I was doing when they came around.

What our compound was … was not a secret in the region. I had put out some feelers to find dependable but discreet people to help us manage. The Larson boys had called and set up a time to talk to me about what they could help with around the community.

That’s how I got two strapping farm boys helping out with land and I’m not complaining. They weren’t nudists that I had seen but they didn’t have a problem working on our land. I know they had seen more then they ‘should’ have seen but they’d never asked any questions or said anything in town that had gotten back to us.